The Ouachita telegraph. [volume] (Monroe, La.) 1865-1889, 1887-03-12

The faint FAR crack1e of distant rifles,
Where part OF q sum of moral tribes.
Then woke Deseret's mountain men
At sound of an old familiar thunder,
Drew their brows in listening wonder,
With eyes OF warriors cleaning under
For these were tho soldiers Of the South
Drifted away on the wreck Of battle
To this far mountain isle of drouth-
Listening now to the pulsing rattle
Of rifle volleys, while memory taxing
IN ha al awakening explanation,-
"This is the birthday of our Nation!
The common day of American gloryi
How will the Mormon render the story ?"
Then some from Stonewall's old brigade,
And some from the noted Hampton Legion,
And some from the Black Horse cavalcade,
And more from far Les famou; REGION
From early trials OF Cow Skin Prairie
In and out of Missouri, twice.
Followed their leader bold and wary
On to the final and sure disaster.
AS men have never followed master,
AS men go anywhere. hand and glove,
Even to death. with the leader they love -
Looked from their cityward windows all,
Behind the dome of the city hall
And the Stars and Stripes at half mast fly
ing!
AS with ono impulse, down to the street
From many window disappearing,
Every obstacle 1eaping and clearing
Toward the town-hall, they thandering
Where Mormon chiefs sat flushing and
"Run up the iiagw the foremost cried
With voice like the roar of a joining battle,
"Up to the top!" And those at his side
Echoed his cry as the pattering rattle
Or q regiment firing q single volley.
The Mormons answered: What wild folly,
Men of the Southland after the harms
That came to You you! from this striped rag,
This is never your blue-crossod flag
How flies lsa.S yo S' co"r"se' How fails your
And then the soldier spokesman rose
AS IT hc rose in ringing stirrup,
Over the covering heads Of foes
The while his strong steed sprang at o
mot yet was it treason when we flew
To arms for a question vexed and nettled
From times OF the Colonies on and through
Pausing, he knitted his grizzly brow,
And with n glance that seemed to sever
The hearts of the men at the lowered bunting
Whilst he for the strongest phrases hunting
shouted: "To us it is treason NOW!
From Apponlatox on and forever!
Run up the flag! We give you one minute
Not to consider it but to begin It,"
Then. when dozen of shaking hands
Swiftly drew on the rising pulley,
ii; TIL, soaring iI up on its sea . gras. strands
Eloated high in q sun-fiood cleaning,
There spranG from hundreds Of soldier
throats
A shrill fierce cry like eagles screaming.
Out on the morning breeze it floats,
On, to the cabined sides of the mountains.
flushing the murmurs OF winds and foun-
tainSs
Men 1eaped up wherever it fell,
Catching 1t mp like song forgotten,
Filled the air with the rebel yell.
The lost war-cry of the land OF the cotton.
Till all the resonant fibers of pines
Every power OF sound enlarging
Rang with the thrill of shout that never
Sprang from aught but the terrible lines
or the dauntfess Gray-men fierc1y charging,
| Echoed it back from the mountain's brow
From tallest pines and stunted sages.
A shout that shalt echo through future
ages
ITO lower the flag is treason now,
From Appomattox on and forever ~
TERRE HAurE, IND. II. w. TAYLOR.